Team Fortress Origins
by DDwolfrider
Summary: When a mysterious figure is hired by BLU corp to find a couple of fighters for them, he starts a worldwide journey to find the very best of the best, no matter what. I suck at writing summaries, but please read it anyway :
1. Prologue

**Hey, guys. This is my first Team Fortress story, and first story on my new account so, you know, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Team Fortress 2 and all it's characters belongs to Valve. Not me. :(**

**XxXxX**

"Mr. Prullè?"

I stirred from my nap, my eyelids fluttering open. "What?" I called rudely, sitting up in the padded chair. A glance around revealed that the waiting room was still empty, aside from the teenage girl behind the desk, who now looked at me timidly.

"Ms. Mallow will, um, see you now." she said, as if trying to sound confident.

I rolled my eyes, standing up. Surly, a woman with this much wealth could afford better help. Straightening my suit, I turned briskly, walking down the brightly-lit hallway around the corner.

Maps of the world and displayed diagrams of her business lined both ends of the hallway, probably more for display then anything else. I chose to ignore them, instead focusing on the quiet clicking of my newly-shined shoes on the marble floor. First impression is important, I thought to myself, straightening a sleeve, and image is everything. If this job opportunity is going to go well, then I would have to look my best, otherwise, I would be mistaken for any other ruffian off the street. Can't allow that, I thought with a smile.

Before long, I was at the oaken door to Ms. Mallow's office, which was engraved with fancy designs, golden hinges, and other textures that I was sure didn't come cheap by anyone's standards. Smoothing out my tie one last time, I opened the door to the office, standing as straight as I could.

"Mr. Prullè?" the woman asked, in her deep, authoritative voice. I looked her over, taking in the image. She wore a tailored dress, dark blue, which struck me as a bit too fancy for the workplace. But, with my cultured apparel, who was I to talk? She seemed to be middle aged, in her forties or fifties, based on the age lines on her face, and her nosed seemed to be pinched, putting her face in a perpetual sneer.

"Yes. Zat is me." I said calmly, closing the door behind me "Nice to finally meet 'ou, Mademoiselle."

"The pleasure is mine." She said, attempting a pained smile as she indicated to the seat before her desk "Please, have a seat." I complied, sitting down on the leather-lined seat before her desk. I quickly looked around her office, bemused at it's elegance. The walls were a shade of light blue, with intricate designs covering every square inch of them. The back wall opened up to a large window, which took up the entire back wall of the room behind her desk, opening up to a fantastic view of Phoenix. This woman definitely knew how to live in luxury.

"Mr. Prullè..." She started, snapping my attention back to her "Do you know how I became so wealthy?"

"Uhm... No." I said, frowning "I don't." She smiled, ready to tell her story.

"When I was twenty-five years old..." She began, turning to look out her window "I was just graduating college, with a masters business. Yes, of course I majored in business, and I asked myself, 'What can I do with my life, so I know I will be happy?' The question really was, as it turned out 'What is the best way to achieve wealth?' Do you know what my answer was, Mr. Prullè?" I shook my head, and she smiled once again. "Construction, Sir, construction." she continued excitedly "It was the best way to become wealthy at the time! Why, you may ask? Because there was never any competition. That's why."

I nodded, trying to follow along.

"And, so, Builder's League United, BLU corp, for short, was born, under my blood sweat and tears. And we are still the number one in the country, which has been the way of things for years."

I nodded again, leaning forward in the seat. "I understand..." I said slowly "But, my question iz, where do I come into this? I would be of little worth to 'ou, in construction."

"Right you are, Mr. Prullè." Ms. Mallow said, nodding back "And I was getting to that. You see, our competitor, Reliable Excavations and Demolitions, we call them RED corp, has been stealing our customers, slowly taking money away from our company over time. Now, I would be fine with this, handle it more civilly, but, last week, they took it a step to far. Under a "Mistake" from their CEO, workers from RED corp demolished one of my main warehouses, putting our construction work to a general standstill. This, I will not stand for!" Making her point, she slammed her fist down on the table "So, I want to get back at them, and show them what it really means to mess with the BLU corp. I want you to gather a group of men, a group of fighters, and bring them to me, so that we can get back at that scum over at Reliable Excavations and Demolitions, and show them why the BLU corp is number one."

"I see." I said calmly, taking this all in "So... You want me to get men for 'ou?"

She nodded back silently. "I just need a few." She said slowly "I would say only about nine or ten. Enough to show the pigs over at RED what we're really made of."

"Okay." I said, nodding my head. "I accept zis job. As long az I get paid."

"Oh, you will be paid very handsomely for your services." Ms. Mallow said, smiling mischievously.

"Well, zen..." I said, leaning forward in the leather-bound chair "Where do I start?"

**XxXxX**

**Well sorry that that chapter was so talky. I just needed to introduce the story :). After all, this is just the prologue. So... tell me what you think in the reviews. See you next chapter! :P**


	2. Meet The Engineer

**Alright, here we have chapter two, where we'll meet up with everyone's favorite beer-drinkin', guitar-playin', sentry-buildin' cowboy, Engy!**

**Oh, and thanks to all twenty six of my visitors for reading chapter one. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'd like to know for sure in the reviews! ^.^**

**Yup, well, enough of my chatter, here's chapter two!**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Valve, or any of their characters. My lawyer's still working on that :P.**

**XxXxX**

"'I would like to go to 'arrison Avenue." I said, sitting back in the cab's back seat "Get to 'eet."

The cabbie muttered something about "Damn Frenchys" under his breath, before starting the meter on the dashboard and starting the ignition. I rolled my eyes at the man's ignorance, stroking the butterfly knife in my pocket. I had just bought the thing... right outside the Airport in Houston,Texas. Was it really worth getting it dirty already?

I decided against it, placing it back in my pocket. No use wasting my abilities on this ignorant redneck.

Trying to forget it, I opened up my briefcase, setting it down on the seat next to me. Pulling out an manilla envelope, I closed it back up, redoing the latches.

I saw the driver eyeing me with the rear-view mirror, as if wondering what I was up to. "Don't 'ou 'ave zomething better to do with your time?" I said reproachfully, and the man just scoffed, looking back out onto the road.

Frowning, I laid the envelope open on my lap, delicately opening it with a gloved hand. I quickly skimmed through the contents of the enclosed file. 'Samuel Mason' was printed across the top in bold letters, over a picture of a smiling man wearing a flannel shirt.

His face was smeared with grease, and his shirt was badly stained, black with grease on some parts, and white with bleach on others. I groaned inwardly, seeing the disrepair of the man's wardrobe. I, myself, could never allow such a fate for my professionally tailored suit, which I practically wore everywhere I went. The man's eyes were covered with black goggles, and he wore an auto-engineer's hat, which read 'Dale's Auto Shop; est. 1967'.

_Why does she even want this pig_, I asked myself, shaking my head. I could only hope that he was good at what he did. Otherwise, I would turn him away without a second thought.

I shook off the thought, instead focusing my attention on his family tree, medical records, and legal history, all the way up until the driver pulled up to the street corner, thirty minutes later.

"'Kay, pay up, buddy." he said, turning to face me "That'll be fourty-nine dollars for the ride."

I nodded solemnly, grudgingly handing over the fifty dollars to my blue-collared driver for his services. Dropping the file back into my briefcase, I stepped out of the cab, and stretched out my legs.

Scanning the streets, I saw just what I had expected to see in Mr. Mason's neighborhood. On the far end of the street, I saw a small waffle house, which seemed to be made out of an abandoned trailer. On the other end, there was an auto shop, which I figured may have looked good back in the sixties, but no longer. Aside from the two places of business, the rest of the town was made up of tiny wooden shacks, which seemed to have been assembled out of plywood and wooden planks, ready to topple over at the first windstorm that came that way.

Needless to say, I was absolutely revolted.

Trying to ignore the heavy smell of gunpowder in the air, I walked forward, looking for the address on the file, which I could only hope was one of the cleaner houses on the street.

I really wish I had been right about that.

"Damn." I muttered, after a few minutes "Zis is ridiculous." I looked up at the little wooden shack in front of me, which had a slightly bigger front yard then most of the others on the street. There were a few pieces of scrap metal strewn across the yard, and some larger mechanical components, such as car engines and radiators.

And, on the front porch, sat the man from the picture, his goggles now off. He was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up against the fence to his front porch. He nonchalantly strummed a guitar with gloved hands, occasionally sipping his beer on the table next to him.

My eyes widened, as I realized that wasn't a table his beer was resting on. Actually, it seemed more like a giant gun... more of a turret, to be exact, with two different gatling guns on either side of the main barrel, glinting menacingly in the sunlight. I swallowed the alarm that had jumped into my throat.

"Howdy, sir." said the man, opening one dark brown eye "What can I do ya for?"

"'Ello, Samuel." I said, paining a smile. The man burst out laughing.

"Samuel!" He said through fits of laughter "Boy, what parts are you from? 'roud here, you kin just call me Sammy, ya got that?"

"Yes." I said, trying to suppress a sneer "I, uhm, 'Got Zat'. My name iz Christophe Prullè. I'm 'ere from BLU corp."

The man's eyes suddenly widened, and he hit a bad note on his guitar.

"BLU corp?" he asked, his face dead serious. I nodded in reply.

"Er... Come in." he said, suddenly seeming more self-aware "I'll fix you a cup o' joe, then we can talk 'bout this some more."

I smiled. Now we were getting somewhere.

XxXxX

"BLU corp, huh?" Sammy called from the kitchen, his back turned to me "Heh. Never thought I'd see them big honchoes knockin' on my door."

I nodded silently, pulling out a shining chrome case from my suit's inner pocket. "Do 'ou mine if I smoke?" I asked, attempting to sound polite. Sammy glanced back at me, and back to the coffee, waving his hand dismissively.

"Go ahead." he said calmly "Got enough gun smoke floatin' 'roud here anyway."

Shrugging, I pulled a cigarette from the case, and pushed it back into my suit pocket.

Sam came around the corner with a cup of coffee. I accepted it with a nod, cigarette in mouth.

"Mind if I ask you a question?" Sam asked suddenly, sitting down on the seat across from me.

"Shoot." I replied, holding my lighter up to the cigarette.

"How does a Frenchman get inta work with the BLU company?" he asked, leaning forward "From what I know, it's an 'merican based company. Why did they go all the way ta France to seek ya out?"

I blew a few smoke rings, pondering the question.

"Hm..." I said, looking down at the floor "I am not quite sure, to be 'onest. Perhaps it was my company, zat got zeir attention. 'Ou see," I leaned inward, puffing some more smoke "I 'ave got a bit of a history, een politics. I am a former member of ze DGES, or, ze Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure..." I looked up, noticing the confused look Sam was giving me. "General Directorate for External Security, een english." I said, and Sam nodded slowly.

"So... what?" he asked, seeming to become progressively more exasperated with every word "Yer some kinda spy, then?"

"Zat is not ze word I would use." I said calmly, shaking ash off my cigarette "But, yes, I suppose 'ou could call me a 'Spy', if 'ou wanted to."

Sam shook his head in disbelief, taking a deep swig from his beer. "Damn..." he said, looking up at me "That's some history ya got there, buddy. Now, can ya tell me what's bringin' ya here in the first place?"

I smiled, swinging my briefcase up on the table. "Zis is why." I replied, as I pushed it open.

"What the hell...?" Sam exclaimed, as I retrieved a large, rolled-up sheet of paper from the briefcase "Are those... Are those blueprints?"

"Zat zey are, indeed, Mr. Mason." I said, rolling out the paper across the table I saw Sam's eyes widen, as he saw what they contained.

"Mah sentry gun?" He asked, looking up from the blueprints. I just smiled down at him. "How in the heck did you get ahold of these?"

"We 'ave our ways, down at BLU." I said, continuing to smile "What can 'ou tell us about zis 'Sentry Gun' of yours, Mr. Mason?"

"It's a high-caliber weapon, if ya wanna put it lightly." he started off, staring at it in disbelief "The motion sensor in the front picks up any kinda movement in a three hundred and forty degree diameter, givin' it almost no blind side. The missile pods on the top are high-powered, with heat-seekin' caps, fer good measure... Uh, why do ya wanna know, anyway, buddy?"

"Mr. Mason..." I started, blowing another smoke ring "Forgive me for answering your question with a question, but are 'ou aware of ze payment of current employees of BLU corp?"

Sam nodded slowly in rapt attention.

"Good. If 'ou double zat, it will be ze amount you will be paid daily for your services to BLU corp." Sam's eyes lit up, and a stunned smile came across his face.

"Really?" He asked, and I nodded silently in reply. "Wow... Damn, that's a lotta money we're talkin' about... What kinda job did ya have in mind?"

"Listen, Sam..." I said slowly, making a solid point "We are going to buy all of your invention off 'ou, and we can 'ave zem in individual boxes, folding out by zemselves within a minute or two. All we really need 'ou to do, is join us in BLU corp, so 'ou can oversee the distribution and enhancement of zese devices."

Sam looked up at me septically, his smile slowly disappearing. "And what do ya need mah guns for, anyways?" he asked deliberately "I'm smellin' a scam here."

"No, zis is not a scam." I said, shaking my head "We need your guns for ze further protection of ze BLU company's building sites. I mean, when it comes to ze projects..." I pulled a contract from my briefcase "...'ou can never be too safe."

"So..." Sam muttered, as I passed him the contract and pen "Yer gonna be buyin' all mah stuff, right? Includin' the dispensers?"

"Including ze dispensers." I said pleasantly.

"And the teleporters?" He asked, sounding concerned "You'll buy them too?"

"Of course." I answered again, inwardly groaning.

"And I get complete control of the manufacturing?" he his eyes scanning the contract "Along with the salary? Eighty bucks an hour?"

"Yes." I said, annoyance and pressure turning my face red. I bit my lip to keep from yelling at him to sign the contract.

"Great. Fine, then." Sam finally said, signing the contract with a flourish of his hand "When do I start work."

"We will notify 'ou, Mr. Mason." I said, taking the contract and pen from his hand "Pleasure doing business with 'ou."

"Pleasure's all mine, sir." he answered with a chuckle "You're gonna make me rich!"

Giving him a polite smile, I placed the contract back into it's folder, stashing it away in the safer sections of my briefcase.

"Bonjour." I said, waving a hand as a I walked out the door.

And, just as I walked out into the trash-strewn lawn, a loud "YEEEEH-HAAAAAWW" echoed through the town, causing the few pedestrians on the street to look up. I only smiled, pulling my cell-phone out of my back pocket.

"_Is he onboard?_" Asked a commanding, feminine voice from the other end, which I figured was her version of a greeting.

"Yes." I said, tossing my burt-up cigarette out onto the street "'E is completely ecstatic about it, actually."

"_Good..._" Ms. Mallow continued, pleasure bubbling up in her voice "_You're definitely living up to my expectations, Christophe._"

"Zank you, Mademoiselle." I answered calmly "Who iz my next target, zen?"

"_Don't get too comfortable in Houston, my friend._" She answered smoothly "_Your next target is somewhere in the state of Alabama, in a city called Anniston. I'll arrange to have the information brought to you when you arrive._"

"Good, good." I answered, inwardly cheering at leaving that repulsive area "When do 'ou want me zere?"

"_Ten minutes ago._" She answered briskly "S_afe travels, Mr. Prullè._" And, with that, the line went dead.

_Note to self_, I thought, tucking my cellphone back into my pocket _Teach Ms. Mallow how to say goodbye._

**XxXxX**

**And with that comment from Christophe, we end chapter two. What do you guys think? Is it too talky? Does it need more action? I NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS!**

**Oh, and, as a side note, who do you think will be Christophe's next target? First person to guess it gets cookies for life!**

**Well, thank you for reading the new chapter, and I'll see you in the next one.**

**Byeeee! ^.^**


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